Alessandro graced her with his brilliant smile. “I’d be delighted to pose for a picture.”
“Smile, Catalina,” Grandma commanded.
I arranged my face into a carefree smile.
Grandma took the pic and checked it.
“Good enough?” I asked.
“It will do.”
Alessandro offered me his arm, I put my hand on his wrist, and we walked down the hallway. He smelled of sandalwood, vanilla, and a hint of citrus. I felt completely ridiculous. I was Cinderella going with my prince to a ball. Where I would beguile and interrogate a woman who made monsters for an assassin consortium, and I had to do a very good job so the National Assembly wouldn’t murder the lot of us.
We reached the door to the office, he held it open for me, and we headed to the front door. Every step was an effort, like someone had put a rubber band around my legs.
“You look very beautiful,” Alessandro said.
When given a compliment, always respond, Arrosa’s voice murmured in my head. “Thank you. You look very handsome.”
He opened the door and I walked out into the street, where Linus’ armored Escalade waited under the light of the streetlamp.
“Weapons?” Linus asked.
“No,” I said. I had checked the security requirements for the gala. Ever since Baranovsky, one of the richest Primes in the country, was murdered at his own charity dinner, the safety measures for high society events had risen to ridiculous levels.
Alessandro shrugged. “No need. There will be plenty of security people around.”
And they would be carrying weapons he could copy.
“How wide is your range?” Linus asked.
Alessandro gave him his wolfish smile.
“I ask, because I brought a full trunk. How close does the vehicle need to be to the building?”
“How far away will the car be parked?”
Linus shook his head. “If it’s parked 0.14 miles away, would that be close enough?”
“Yes.”
The car turned onto Texas Avenue and pulled up in front of the Wortham Theater Center, joining the line of other luxury vehicles dropping off their passengers, as if we all were elementary school kids. Night had fallen, but the entire street was bathed in bright electric light.
“All right, children,” Linus said. “We’re going to walk inside, mingle briefly, and be seated at our table. The ball will consist of five acts with twenty-minute intermissions. Dinner will be served in courses during the intermissions. It is customary to dance and socialize between the acts. Catalina, you’re going to find Cristal, and when an opportunity presents itself, become her best friend in the whole world. We need definitive proof of her involvement, the location of the facility, and an admission of guilt, if you can get it. Record everything she tells you. Alessandro, under no circumstances is Catalina to be harmed. Avoid violence, but if you have no choice, try to take care of it quietly. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
Count Sagredo didn’t dignify the question with an answer.
The Escalade slid to a stop. The usher opened my door and offered me his hand. I leaned on it and stepped out of the vehicle into the night.
A hundred and fifty feet of red carpet stretched across the narrow plaza, bordered by lush oaks and lit by globe streetlights. At the end of it, the glass entry archway glowed with golden light. People in evening attire strolled toward it, women in glittering gowns and men in suits, pausing at the topiary to have their pictures taken against the red-carpet backdrop. Onlookers waited on the edges of the path, eager for a glimpse of the rich and famous. A TV crew lurked in the distance, by the entrance, the correspondent interviewing the guests. Cameras flashed, ushers hurried back and forth, jewels sparkled on skin and hair . . .
The urge to crawl back into the Escalade gripped me.
I raised my chin. I wasn’t some Cinderella with a magic dress from my fairy godmother. I bought my own dress with money I earned, I bought my shoes and my bag, and nothing was going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight. I didn’t like this fake world of glamour and excess, but nobody had the right to question my presence here. I had a job to do, and I would do it.
Alessandro came around the car and offered me his arm again. A few heads turned our way.
Linus exited the Escalade. A subtle change came over the crowd. They didn’t exactly gape, but the Primes of Houston paused. Every single one of them knew Linus was there.
Linus flashed a thousand-watt smile. When he was young, he might have given Alessandro a run for his money. He waved at no one in particular, and the onlookers went wild.
Linus strode up the red carpet. We followed. Ahead, the TV crew realized that a Big Name Prime had landed, and the correspondent was desperately trying to wrap up her current interview.
Alessandro walked next to me, beautiful and slightly aloof, a prince just a touch above it all, while Linus grinned and played up to the crowd. Ahead, the walls of the Wortham Theater glowed with colored projections of acrobats and rings of fire. The Houston Opera Admiration Society was celebrating the opening of Madame Trapeze, a new hybrid show that blended elements of the circus and opera. It had sold out in London and New York, and somehow Houston was the next to get it. We wouldn’t be getting the entire performance, just a few chosen acts before the real thing was open to the general public, but it was exciting being one of the first people to see it.
A woman shrieked from the left, “Alessandro! Look at me!”
He turned without breaking his stride and winked. The group of girls on our left erupted.
“Oh my God!”
“Marry me!”
“Who’s the girl?”
“My number is 830 . . .”
We resumed our march toward the entrance.
“Enjoying yourself?” I murmured.
“Jealous?”
“Of your many admirers? No.”
“You never say anything nice to me,” he said, his voice low and slipping into an intimate tone that brushed against my skin like velvet. We were on display in front of hundreds of people and he was speaking to me as if we were about to make out in my bedroom. “It’s always ‘Stop driving so fast, Alessandro.’ ‘You have to leave, Alessandro.’”
“What would you rather hear?”
“I could think of a few things.” His face took on a wistful expression. It looked good on him. Like everything else. “I missed you, Alessandro.”
Why did I ask?
“Hold me, Alessandro.” His seductive voice wove around me. All my senses came to attention. The crowd was fading and only his voice mattered.
“Kiss me, Alessandro.”
Heat warmed my face. I was blushing. Damn it.
“Will you stop?”
We were almost to the TV crew. Maybe we could slip by them unnoticed while they pounced on Linus.
“Don’t go, Alessandro. Don’t stop, Alessandro . . .”
“Stop lying about who you are, Alessandro.”
His face shut down as if someone slammed a door closed. I hit a nerve. Good.
The correspondent pounced on Linus. Alessandro smoothly passed by him and we joined the throng of overdressed people walking through the wide-open glass doors. Nobody asked us for our invitations. Apparently just arriving with Linus Duncan was good enough.
Six armed security guards in black suits lined the sides of the short lobby. We passed through the arch of the metal detector, then the airport-style bio scanner, and took the escalator up.